


Can't Buy Me Love

by dollydolittle



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Community: kradamadness, M/M, Prompt: wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 03:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollydolittle/pseuds/dollydolittle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Kris' birthday and the thing with Adam Lambert?  Yeah, it's got to stop.  Kris is not a prostitute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Buy Me Love

*

When Adam Lambert showed up at his birthday party, Kris had had enough. He really didn’t know what sort of strange rock star style life Adam led, but no matter how famous he was, Kris was not bending over for a pile of sparkly, shiny gifts.  
  
He didn’t know how this was his life.  
  
One acoustic session in the studio for Adam’s next album, and God above, Kris had been so happy to have _work_ , and his existence as he knew it, was over. To quote the Fresh Prince; his life got flipped, turned upside down.  
  
First there were the flowers. Kris did not know what to do with a thousand yellow daisies. Who thought of something like that?  
  
Then came the invites. Premieres, private concerts, Justin Timberlake’s secret wedding… Kris politely declined.  
  
All of this was followed by jewelry that Kris didn’t wear, an apartment he couldn’t afford, and record execs handing over their business cards and saying, ‘Let’s do lunch.’  
  
But that paled in comparison to this. In his lap, nestled in sparkly tissue paper, was a Fender 1950s Telecaster. Kris’ jaw dropped, his friends were gaping, and Adam Lambert was grinning like the cat that caught the canary. It was just too much.  
  
Kris stood, gripping the neck of the guitar tightly, but very, very carefully, and made his way toward Adam. “Can I talk to you, please?” he asked, softly and politely.   
  
Adam’s smile got wider, and how was that even possible?, and he said, “Sure!”   
  
Kris took Adam’s hand and tugged him down the hall to his bedroom. Once he had the door shut, and the guitar safely in the middle of his bed, he turned to face Adam once again. Adam, however, was inspecting Kris’ dresser, poking things curiously. Kris cleared his throat and Adam turned, smiling sheepishly. “This is your room?”  
  
“Yeah.” He took a deep breath and then let it out, unsure how ton start now that he had Adam’s full attention. “Look,” he started, rubbing at the back of his neck, “this has got to stop.”  
  
Adam’s expression went blank. “What?”  
  
“All of this,” Kris said, gesturing toward the guitar, “The gifts and stuff. Stop buying me things.”  
  
Adam stared, looking confused, “It’s just a guitar. You play-“  
  
“It’s not just a guitar!” Kris exploded, “It’s the flowers and the candy and the, the _everything_! And that- That is not _just_ a guitar. That is a Fender 1950s Telecaster. That is Keith Richards’ guitar!”  
  
“He didn’t write something weird on it, did he?” Adam demanded, striding over to the bed, “I told him to just sign it. I swear, fucking rock stars-“  
  
Kris felt his entire body go numb. “Are you saying that is actually _Keith Richards’ guitar_?”  
  
“Yes..?” Adam said innocently.  
  
His legs gave out, and Kris sank onto his bed. “Oh my God,” he muttered, dropping his head into his hands. “Oh my God.”  
  
“I thought you’d like it.”  
  
Kris looked up and Adam was standing there, a blush on his cheeks, seemingly awkward. “Like it,” Kris echoed. “You’re insane, aren’t you?” He let his gaze skim over the Fender and sighed. “This must be what going insane feels like,” he murmured.  
  
“You look pale,” Adam observed anxiously.  
  
He needed to regroup. Kris shook his head. “Okay, here’s the thing Adam, I’m not a prostitute.” Adam cocked his head to one side and raised an eyebrow. “No matter how much stuff you buy me, I am not going to sleep with you,” Kris clarified.  
  
“Oh my God,” Adam said, eyes wide, and his make-up made the expression even more dramatic. “I don’t want to sleep with you!”  
  
Well. “You don’t?” Kris asked, frowning.  
  
Adam smacked himself in the forehead and then shook it. “I mean, yes, I do. But only after, like, a few dates, you know?” He sat down next to Kris. “I like you.”  
  
“I don’t understand.”  
  
Adam threw his head back and laughed. “I like you,” he repeated.  
  
Kris stared at him in disbelief. “Why?” He stood and backed away from the sight of Adam Lambert on his bed. “You’re _Adam Lambert_. You’re an international superstar. I’m from _Arkansas_.”  
  
Adam stood up as well, following Kris’ path across the room. He approached slowly, brushing his fingers against Kris’. “You’re kind of amazing, Kris Allen.” He shrugged. “I didn’t really know what to do to get you to notice me; you’re not really like anybody I’ve ever dated, hence the presents.”  
  
He didn’t know what to do with this information. “Talking works,” he pointed out.  
  
“I’ll try that next time.” Kris nodded, and Adam actually gripped his hand, lacing their fingers together. “You want to go to dinner on Friday?”  
  
Kris could deal with this. He looked up at Adam and remembered the funny, laid-back guy he’d spent hours joking with in a studio, the way they’d bounced ideas back and forth, the way he loved music as much as Kris did… “Sure.” Then a thought occurred to him. “But let’s keep it simple, okay, no flying me to Paris or anything, alright?”  
  
Adam laughed, and it was a very pleasant sound. Kris found himself smiling in response. “I’ll try to restrain myself,” Adam said.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Okay,” Adam agreed.  
  
Kris’ hand fit nicely into Adam’s, he noticed, and then sighed, looking up at Adam regretfully. “We should get back to the party.”  
  
Adam nodded, “Right.”  
  
They moved, and Kris got caught up at the sight of the guitar on his bed. “I can’t accept this,” he told Adam, shoulders slumping, “It’s too much.” He picked it up and held it out to Adam, who looked from the Fender to Kris and then back again before reluctantly taking the instrument.  
  
Kris sighed longingly.  
  
“Tell you what,” Adam said, eyes twinkling suspiciously, “I’ll save it for our fifth anniversary.”  
  
“You _are_ insane,” Kris declared, amazed.  
  
Adam’s grin was mischievous. “Just a little.”  
  
Kris rolled his eyes and moved past the other man to head out the door. Adam caught him as he opened it, planting a kiss onto his right cheek. He winked at Kris’ astonishment. “That’s your gift. Happy birthday!”  
  
“You can do better than that,” Kris countered, smiling, and pulled the superstar’s mouth down to his. It was the best present he got that year.  
  
*  
  



End file.
